Tea
by Agent Evey
Summary: Evey is sick and V comes to the rescue!
1. Chamomile

--Tea--

V made breakfast this particular morning, bacon, eggs, and toast to accompany the fine cool, cloudless morning of the world above. The extra rest that he had been afforded the previous night left him feeling quite refreshed and, given the cheerful humming he was now indulging in he felt very well indeed.

Evey would be arriving any minute now, rising and entering the kitchen as she did every morning around this time. Breakfast had become a sort of tradition for them in the past few months, and although he could not dine with her V was more than happy just to have someone with which to share his knowledge with.

The food did smell very good though, and every now and then he would slip a morsel of it beneath the mask before Evey came, something he could not resist doing on this fine morning as he waited. The bacon! It smelled so delicious, and tasted even better. She would absolutely love it. Ever since she had arrived she had been enamored with his food selection and culinary skill. Often commenting on how he was "spoiling" her with food that was "above Norsefire standard." If only she realized how horrible that statement really was. Such food should not have been considered "luxury."

Waiting for her took longer than expected and by the time he was finished cooking Evey had still not shown up. Perhaps she was still showering. If that was the case it would be pointless to check in on her, and if she was still asleep then who was he to wake her. The Shadow Gallery held no specific schedule and she was not obligated to mingle with him if she did not wish to.

…After half of an hour of waiting he began to worry, however, and when there was still no sign of her waking, he decided to investigate. It was certainly not his intention to breech her privacy but she had not even made a sound. If anything she would have made at least some noise by then, opening doors or dropping some sort of cosmetic product. Any sound would have consoled him, but that nothing would have come about by now was very worrisome indeed. And so with that logic, he traversed the gallery, approaching her room with solid, heavy footsteps so as to alert her to his presence.

She was there, in her bed, laying flat on her back and looking a little paler than normal in his opinion. The sheet's were strewn about the floor and her shirt had ridden up to expose her stomach. The skin there was speckled with a variety of red marks, indicating that she had either been clawing or clutching at it the entire night. In short, V's most trusted guest looked entirely too disheveled and quite unwell in her appearance and his concern was growing with every waking moment that he was in the room. She appeared as if she neither possessed the will nor the energy to do anything.

His entrance had gone unnoticed, something even more concerning to V as, given constant shifting and occasional groan that she emitted every minute or so, it was apparent that she was awake. Whatever ordeal she was currently facing was demanding her full attention and she winced behind closed eyes as her condition continued in what appeared to be a seemingly merciless attack on her person.

"Evey?" He saw her open her eyes, looking mildly confused at first before widening at the sight before her.

"Oh, sh**" she said as she flopped over and curled herself in a ball on her side, facing away from V and acting, to all accounts, like a child who does not wish to get up for school.

"Evey…I didn't mean to startle you," he said, coming to sit upon the edge of the bed, "whatever is the matter? You do not look well."

Trying to avoid him was useless and she groaned at his words before turning her upper body back up towards the ceiling, her legs still curled underneath her as she looked hazily up at him. His head was looming over her and the perspective nearly made her feel dizzy. She rubbed a hand to her forehead and through her hair, unconsciously clumping it up upon the pillow behind her. Her clouded mind was inhibiting her thoughts and slowing her responses.

"V" she said weakly as she noticed how dry her mouth felt, "I'm sorry, I heard you in the kitchen but I couldn't make it...I can barely stand. I think I've got some sort of virus," her eyes closed, "my stomach hurts terribly and I've got the most horrid headache."

"Have you been able to sleep?" he spoke softly.

"Only a few hours, and even then I kept waking up"

An inaudible grunt of disappointment escaped his mouth and he separated the edge of his gauntlet with the sleeve of his doublet just enough to allow the skin beneath his hand to be exposed. The exposure he could ignore, for once, for he was far to concerned over her condition to allow it to impede him. Placing it on her forehead, he gave an audible "Hmm" before returning his arm to it's proper position and state. Her temperature was above average it felt hot even to his own skin, which itself was ever so slightly elevated in temperature due to his increased metabolism.

"You do have a fever. I'm afraid that an apology is due on my part as it is probably something that I brought in from above. I myself do not get sick very often but I am just as capable of harboring a virus as anyone else." He stood then, rising from the mattress with the greatest ease, "I shall return in a moment. I can assure you that my pharmacy is well stocked. Medicine, although rather useless to me, is yet another science that I take pleasure in studying. Is there anything that you might specifically request?"

She simply stared at him, trying to comprehend and digest his words through the discomfort she was experiencing. How could he still be so…composed and energetic after getting the same virus? It was unfair to say the least. Her face contorted as she experienced yet another wave of oncoming nausea. "I'm very thirsty."

"Something to drink then," he stated as he began to gather the tussled sheets around her. Not one of them was doing it's job of warming and protecting her. He shook them off from the floor and began to straighten them on the bed once more. Bringing the first sheet to her form, he set to the task of covering her back up pausing in mid air, however, when he was again afforded a view of her lower torso.

"I shall see to that too," he said, indicating the scratch marks located upon her skin. Evey's eyes widened again and her pale skin flushed as she realized what V was talking about. Without a word, she pulled her shirt down, covering the area from his view. He nearly laughed at the gesture but thought better of it, instead focusing the energy on tucking her in before retrieving the necessary medical supplies that would aid in her recovery.

"Now," he said after he was sufficiently pleased with his work, "if you will excuse me for a moment," and before she could even think he vanished from her sight, going back into the hallway and into some unknown area of the gallery.

Evey shuffled in her bed, feeling rather like a child in the state that she was in. It was not his job to tend to her in such a manner, but the help was nonetheless appreciated. Even taking a trip to the facilities left her feeling like she had just run a marathon, and his energy could make up for hers tenfold.

"God," she said as yet another wave of nausea overwhelmed her. The fact that she had not yet hurled her brains out was surprising to Evey, but with each moment she was coming dangerously close.

V returned with a tray in hand, setting it down upon her bedstand before sitting on the edge of the mattress once again. He had brought with him a plethora of items, including medicine, drinks, and a bit of food. His efforts were surprising to say the least and the fact that it was probably the kindest gesture towards her care that she had ever received was not lost to her. No matter what V did she could never quite figure him out. He was a man who was just as charming as he was deadly, who treated his prisoners like first class guests, and who made every act of violence seem like an act of elegant sainthood. How could someone who seemed so completely normal on an everyday basis to her be so flaming mad to everyone else? She really could not wrap her mind around it. Why did he care so much about her? It seemed that every other man he touched ended up dead. She knew what he was capable of, had seen him lay three men out in the blink of an eye that day in the alley, but whatever violence he committed now was always done away from her and was hardly ever demonstrated to her on a normal basis. Or if it was it always seemed comical, like when he was fighting his suit of armor. Yet she still could not bring herself trust him fully, no matter how comfortable she had felt so far she still wondered if he might turn on her one day and often worried about angering him too much.

"I doubted that you would be hungry," he said, interrupting her thoughts, "but I brought you some toast. I would advise that you should, at least, try to eat a little."

She nodded and sat up before scanning some of the other items located on the tray. "What is that?" She indicated towards two small bottles that were sitting adjacent to a glass of water.

"Paracetamol and Doxylamine for the pain, fever, and sleep," he picked up each of the bottles, opening them and retrieving two pills from the former and one from the latter. Both are perfectly safe under this dosage. A common combination to treat what you are experiencing."

A moment of hesitation crossed her form before she took the pills from his hand, as if she was debating whether or not to trust him, something that pained V to see. No matter the circumstances she still let her fear get the better of her, always ruling over her better judgment and exacerbating caution when it was not needed. She downed them quickly, though, consuming nearly the entire glass of water in the same instance.

"Right then," she picked up a small tube on the tray, "what about this."

"That is for your skin," he nodded towards her stomach, "which you so mercilessly assaulted earlier."

"Oh I don't think I need this, it's not that bad."

"Evey you're bleeding,"

She looked town towards the aforementioned area.

"Oh..." He was right, there were several areas of her shirt where blood had seeped through the cotton. Tiny scratches that had opened up after heavy abuse were now rebelling against her. God, was anything going right for her body today?

V took the tube from her hands, applying some of it to the tip of his gloved fingers (he was not about to reveal his skin to her, the sight of which would probably make her wretch)

"May I?"

"Err," she gave him a confused look.

"You will need to wash your hands afterwards, I thought that I would save you the trip." Was that even a valid excuse? His sincerity was questionable, even to him. No, no, although he was undoubtedly attracted to her he had enough self control not to let that sort of thing…distract him.

"Alright," she said, and lifted her shirt away just enough to expose the afflicted area, "rub away."  
It took him a moment to gain control over his quickened breathing, but after seeing how irritated her skin really was he set to the task of mending it. It seemed almost a crime to let such perfectly smooth skin come to harm. How she had let it happen was beyond him.

"Ahh, stop, that tickles!" she giggled as his hand landed on a particularly sensitive area near a rib.

"Oh does it?" his tone was devilish.

V smiled, passing his hand over it again and nearly making her jump at the contact. The giggling was repeated and he could not resist making a third attempt. To see her smiling again was encouraging, and that the smile was caused by him was even more extraordinary.

"V, Your going to make me throw up!" Her hand landed halted his, and for a moment he froze. It was hard enough trying to carrying on such a task without letting his thoughts waver to rather primal areas but with the extra physical contact he nearly lost it. His mask tilted towards the area, and he became momentarily lost in thought. The contrast of his glove upon her skin, the feeling that it sent shivering through his being, the woman who was only millimeters away from him whom he was caring for, it all suddenly became very, very apparent and quite overwhelming.

This moment was very short, however, and just as Evey was beginning to worry he smoothed the rest of the ointment over her skin before retracting his hand fully, closing it and resting it upon his leg. The glove would have to be cleaned, but soiling it was worth Evey's health.

"Well then, Miss Hammond, we can't have that."

"Not unless you want to see those pills again," she smiled and fixed her shirt as he pulled some of the sheets back around her.

"Oh, I'd better not, then I would have absolutely no reason not to continue the tickling."

"You'd be covered in vomit," she darted back.

"It wouldn't be the first time, now how about some tea."

Evey looked back to the tray, spotting a white saucer brewing on it's surface.

"Hmm, I guess I could try some," she said, reaching for the cup and taking some of it into her mouth.

She coughed, nearly spitting it out before she managed to swallow. It certainly wasn't the kind of tea that she was used to.

"That's disgusting!" she grimaced.

"It's Chamomile, and it will help," he said, cupping her hands around the saucer, "just a few sips, that is all you need take in."

"You drink this stuff?"

"Often, before I retire to bed," he replied, "it is a natural sedative."

"Oh you didn't mention that," she said, pinching her nose and downing the rest of the cup, "there I think that will do."

He chuckled, "indeed."

"Still tastes horrible, though" her expression was one of utter disgust, "god I might as well eat grass."

"Mmm," his voice went low, "why don't you try and get some rest now. It will be a while before the medicine works but the tea might just be enough to calm your senses,"

She sighed, "I suppose I should try."

"'To sleep: perchance to dream...'"

"Hamlet," she blurted out before he could even finish the quote. "And that's not very appropriate considering what he's really talking about."

V smiled beneath the mask "Very good, I was altering it's context."

She closed her eyes after mumbling a soft "Mhmm" and settled down in an attempt at sleep.

V stood up, gazing at her for a moment before leaving and returning to the kitchen. What was left of her meal had gone cold by now, and although he attempted to eat some he found that he was not in the mood. He was going to have to be more careful when he returned from above, any future greetings would need to wait until after he showered.

After cleaning up he went to sit on the couch in the Television room, though the machinery in front of him remained off. Normally Evey would be with him at this hour, watching the morning news or reading a book beside him. How was it that she had become such an integral part of his life so quickly? ..and why was he missing her already? She was still physically in the gallery, and that notion alone was something to be cheerful about. That she had not made any attempts to escape so far was surprising to say the least. He hoped that it was because she was beginning to enjoy her stay. …and perhaps to enjoy him.

The shuffling of bare feel halted his thoughts, and V was soon met with the sight of Evey, bundled up in a blanket and standing before him with a rather cautious look upon her face. Almost as if she was afraid to ask something.

"Evey, you could have called me" he said, focusing his attention on her fully. Lord, she looked as if she could barely stand!

"I still can't sleep" she said, ignoring his reprimand before coming to sit beside him. "I never can when I'm sick."

"…and your medicine is not yet fully metabolized…" he added.

"I know, but it's not just how I feel physically, V. Every time I get sick I…" Why was she telling him this? She barely knew if she could trust him anymore.

"…I can't stop thinking about how my brother was before he died. I know St. Mary's was different but when I was little I didn't understand that. It started out just like any other virus, I didn't think that I would never see him again. I just remember seeing him in that bed, dying. It all happened so fast, and I've never been able to shake that image. Last night I sat up for hours thinking about it. I just wish it hadn't happened. "

Her expression was somber and she was doing her best to fight the tears back, the fatigue that she was experiencing was beginning to overwhelm her, however, and a few glittering droplets did get through. Making no attempt to dry them, she simply closed her eyes and let her head fall back to the couch.

"Evey…" his mask was turned fully to her, "you can not help what happened, and you will not suffer the same fate. Fearing it will not help you, my dear."

"I can't stop worrying about it."

"Can't you?" He knew that she was wrong, knew that she had more power within her than she was consciously aware of.

"V, I didn't come out here to solve puzzles."

"My apologies," he would let it slide for now.

"I just don't want to be alone…" she almost didn't admit it, "especially right now…"

V paused, unsure of what to say.

"I was under the impression that my presence brought you a remarkable amount of discomfort, otherwise I would not have left you…" his voice was weary, and almost timid in its manner. He was crossing a boundary that could very well leave him brokenhearted.

"You think that I'm afraid of you." It wasn't a question.

"Not only do I think it but I know it. For you to deny that would be a lie. You have every right to be, Evey, my reputation is not unknown to you. However, it is imperative that you know that what I do is neither impulsive nor unwarranted. I do not harm or kill without the intention of a greater good. There are many reasons for my behavior, some you know, but others you do not. What is perceived as madness is, in fact, not," he was growing more and more anxious. He wanted to tell her everything; what had been done to him at lark hill, how he had risen above that, how he cared about her… She wouldn't understand, however, and couldn't understand the depths of such an admission.

"V, I don't want us to be like this. You're right, I do get a little scared around you sometimes but I think I am beginning to trust you. You're the only person I've got right now…and I know that you care about me. If you didn't I'd probably be in prison right now."

Of course he cared about her, it was more than just care though. Yes he was definitely beginning to understand that.

When he did not respond she began to worry, and grabbed one of his arms to attempt a hug, "please don't think that I don't like you V, I really do." He did not understand how true that statement was becoming.

V nearly jumped at the unexpected contact. "Your word is enough, Evey. I will always here for you, for as long as I can be, and for as long as you need me."

Evey felt a wave of fatigue coming over her as she smiled, "good, because as long as I don't have to drink any more Chamomile tea I'll need you."

V chuckled softly, "oh I think that it helped a little more than you are willing to admit."

She yawned as her head fell upon his shoulder, every limb in her body was beginning to feel incredibly heavy, and a warm fuzziness began to cloud her senses. "No, I think…" she yawned again, "you're…wrong"

Eyes that had stayed open for far too long were finally beginning to close, and V gazed upon her warmly as she slipped into a rather abrupt sleep.

The jukebox switched to yet another song in the distance. This one titled "Lullabye" by a man named Billy Joel. How coincidental, he though, that it should play at this moment.

..but V did not believe in coincidences.

As the song went on, he slipped into a rather deep state of thought, propping his chin upon her head in an act of affection that surprised even him. He felt so protective when it came to her, and so very at peace.

The ground that he was treading with this young woman was very unfamiliar indeed.

What exactly would become of Evey Hammond after their time was over? Would she one day have her own home, a stable job, money?

…a husband.

…perhaps children.

He sighed, yes she probably would. The woman had her whole life ahead of her, and he would do his best to make sure that it was a good one. Not only through Norsefire's downfall but through his own personal plans for her. How he would do it, he did not yet know, but he would find a way to teach her to live without fear. He cared about her enough to give her that freedom.

For now, however, she would sleep. His presence, however fleeting on this world, was for the moment solely dedicated towards her comfort and health. The vendetta could wait for a little wile as he allowed himself this one pleasure.

The song ended nearly as quickly as it came, bringing V back to the present. He was acutely aware of the pressure that was her head beneath his neck, of her arms wrapped tightly around one of his, and of the gentle rise and fall of her boy against his doublet as she drew in breath.

The comfort she was demonstrating was contagious, and soon V found even himself growing tired as he listened to the soft sounds of her sleep.

"Please do not forget me, Evey" he whispered quietly, into her hair "I will not always be able to protect you, and I fear that my time on this earth will soon end. But do not forget me, once I am gone. For I shall never forget you."

The world around him grew hazy, and he fancied that a nap was soon in order. Yes, a quick nap and he would return her too her bed, where she could sleep properly.

Every so slowly he fell asleep, and when he did it was with a comfort he had never consciously experienced. His breath slowed through the mask, and he was not aware, several hours later, when Evey woke to use the bathroom.

He had not woken when she left him, and neither did he stir when she returned. To see him in such a peaceful state was rare, and through it she was able to see a side of him that she had not noticed before. He seemed so docile and innocent. What was more, he had not left her side that night, she really could trust him, couldn't she?

Evey returned to her former position, curling back up to him with her newfound trust.

"Evey," he whispered softly, barely aware of her returning presence in his sleep.

"I'm not afraid of you V," she said aloud as she buried her head underneath his chin, "not anymore" and with that she fell back asleep.

-Quote from Shakespere's _Hamlet_


	2. Ginger

Tea Part-2

-------------------------------------------

V woke with a start, a mild grunt escaping his throat as he looked around himself with light confusion.

'How odd' … he thought.

He was sitting on his couch in the television room, the jukebox was quietly playing some classical tune in the distance, and it was now dark. The artificial lighting of the shadow gallery had already begun dimming with the first hint of night. A tiny green light located on the DVD player blinked happily about the room, awaiting use, and the television aside it was off.

V squinted at the light beneath the mask, mildly annoyed by it's presence. Good lord, how long had he been sitting there? It was nearly seven-o-clock at night by what he could tell and he had fallen asleep earlier. Yes, he remembered that much. It had only been mid-day at the time, though. There had been plenty of hours yet until fatigue would set in and he required rest.

…and yet rest he had received.

"Hmm," he vocalized, his awareness growing by the moment. He shifted a little, then froze as he perceived a certain amount of weight upon his chest.

Oh dear...

…and with that the remainder of his memories suddenly came flying back to him. Evey had been sick earlier that morning and had required his aid, something he gave freely. Later she likewise sought his comfort and had confided in him, desperately seeking the assurance that she was not alone in her struggles and that she would soon be well again. Trust had been discussed, as well as fear, and then the lady had fallen asleep, finally succumbing to the effects of both her medication and her perceived safety.

V looked down, consciously having to steady his breath as he studied her features. Her eyes were closed, a look of concentration set upon her face as she passed through some unknown dream. There was a blanket bundled around them both--something that he did not quite remember putting there-- and her hair was tussled about, folding in and out of the fabric.

Did know that she was here…with him?

Likely, though the medication was strong, and he did not wish to scare her if she was to wake.

Shifting his body, he tested her level of awareness. She sighed softly, but otherwise did not stir. He positioned his arms around her and appropriately rose, lifting up both Evey and the blankets around her in one fluid movement. From there he began a slow journey to her bedroom, careful not to make any sudden jerks.

"Mmmn" a rather unexpected sound escaped her throat in the middle of their journey. She rubbed her face against the blanket across his chest. "I'm tired," she said, barely aware of being conscious.

Confound it, she woke up.

"Shhh, sleep Evey"

For a moment Evey wondered if she was being carried by her father, like she used to be when she was a small child. It was not him, however, and she knew that. He was dead.

'V,' she thought, 'it's V'.

"V?" she mumbled through her sleepy haze, "where…"

"You fell asleep, I am simply taking you to your room," he voiced lowly.

"Oh…" She yawned, her movements childish within the light daze that she was under. A few moments passed, and she appeared to have fallen asleep yet again within V's arms. He looked down to her, smiling beneath the mask, when suddenly she jerked and tried to sit up.

All awareness returned to her in an instant.

"V!?"

"Yes?" the mask focused on her.

"V, oh god, put me down" she said, a worried look forming upon her countenance.

"Are you alright?"

"Please V," she said, squirming to be let loose "let go!"

"As you wish…" He put her down carefully, concerned over whether or not he had offended her until she bolted from his presence; heading not in the direction of her bedroom but, rather, the facilities.

The door did not close, and it did not take him long to decipher what was now occurring. He followed her path, all initial concern washing away as the sounds of gagging and retching flooded the hallway.

Evey was slumped over the toilet bowl, laying on the tile floor with her head pressed against the lid as she waited for the another wave of overwhelming nausea to consume her. She heard V enter the room, and noted the brief sound of the faucet running before she felt ill again.

"Oh god," she muttered weakly before lifting her head over the porcelain bowl and emptying what little was left of her stomach's contents into it.

"Evey," V intoned lowly, coming to squat beside her, "here"

She felt a cool cloth press against her lips, wiping away any residue that remained on them, and then there was a soft pressure on her back. What that…his hand? The pressure began to move, shifting in slow, long, circular movements.

He was rubbing her back. God, she wanted to cry at the gesture.

"Thank you," she whispered before her breath caught and she tasted bile once more. V did not cease his ministrations as she threw up again, if anything he only grew more sympathetic, his efforts in comforting her growing that much more diligent.

It was a while before Evey's nausea spells finally abated, her occasional gags now producing nothing but pure air. The muscles of her stomach were sore from all of their efforts and she was left feeling both weak and dehydrated.

V, determined as he so obviously was, had not left her side. His handsome black figure looming over her in silent dedication.

"I suppose that I should to get up, I'm thirsty," she said

"No need," he said, rising from his squatting position, "I will return shortly"

She nodded, to weak to really care where she was or who did what for her at the moment. When he left, she curled up, resting her back against a nearby cabinet with her arms around her legs as she awaited his return. Examining the room around her, she pondered it's immaculate appearance. V was so…tidy, and clean. There was hardly a speck of dust floating around and no stains of any kind could be located on any of the nearby objects around her. Even the toilet was perfectly maintained. She wondered when he ever had the time to do such things. He was almost never around, always busy doing some task or another. She never really asked what he did, fairly sure that she did not want to know anyways.

"I wonder if he stayed home for me" she whispered, not sure who she was talking to. Had he? She did not want to burden him, though it was awfully kind of him to do so.

A shiver ran up and down her body as air began to flow through the ventilation shaft above her, disrupting her thoughts. God it was cold, and she was so tired, even after just waking up.

V's footsteps could be heard in the distance, and he entered the room through an alternate door, one that was closer to where the shower was locate. It was a rather spacey bathroom.

He stood in front of her and bent down, handing her a cup of tea.

She took the saucer, analyzing it shortly before looking back up to him, "V, this isn't chamomile again, is it? …because I _will_ throw up."

"No, it's Ginger."

"Oh, I don't think I really like that stuff either." Her nose crinkled in an expression of disgust.

"Come now, it will settle your stomach. There is no need in prolonging your unease."

"You're sure?"

"Positive"

She smiled weakly and brought the cup to her lips, sipping it gingerly

"I guess it isn't that bad"

He nodded, rubbing his knees as he sat Indian style on the tile floor, "I tried not to make it too strong"

"Thank you"

They sat in silence for a few moments, V watching her as she continued to mentally monitor the state of her health.

V had shown her nothing but kindness and gentle concern since she had fallen ill, and the feelings that such a notion brought to her were more than a little confusing. No one had ever been this nice to her when she was sick before, at least not after the death of her parents, and it was nice to have someone to lean on during such times. …but why V? Why had they crossed paths that one fateful night, and why was she beginning to feel so incredibly fond of him?

She turned to look at him, only to find his constant gaze focused likewise on her.

"You'd make a very good doctor, you know" she said, before things could get awkward.

What an interesting notion, to don a lab coat instead of a cloak; choosing to heal instead of kill. V chuckled, "Oh, I'm not so sure that I would. There are so many others are there who are much more…qualified than I am."

Evey looked down to the floor. She did not quite agree with him. No doctor she had ever encountered had been so kind to her.

"The doctors at the detention center I went to were never very nice, they just had a little clinic that we were sent to when we didn't feel good. I always felt like the physical exams took a little too long, if you know what I mean. They never told us what we were given when we got pills, and whatever I was given never worked very well. I doubt that the government would have wasted too much money on our health… I wouldn't be surprised if they were made of sugar powder."

"Likely."

"…when I got back I still always had to do all those bloody chores that they forced on us. I threw up on the floor once and they made me clean it up…never did it again."

"No care facility under this government has ever had the need to reassess it's policies in order to give more consideration to human rights. It had been my particular experience to note that their practices are far from humane and, unfortunately, your case is not uncommon. The doctors they hire there are often lost upon themselves. They forget who they are beneath the façade of the profession, and, over the years, often neglect to think that their patients are beings who are just as human as they are. It is desensitization at it's best. A belief that humanities entire existence upon this earth has been filtered down into some unnamable vat of filth that lives only to be controlled or exterminated by it's superiors; with no regards to that which made humanity so unique in the first place. Our creativity, ingenuity, and intelligence. It is the same belief under which the current government is functioning."

He paused, looking to the side.

"…when it all comes down to it what we have is a parasitic relationship between the leaders of a certain body of people and the people themselves, and the idea is nothing short of ludicrous. It is comparable to having a large population of butterflies that have been tricked into being led by a small number of over-controlling roaches. 'For the good of the population,' the roaches say, 'for justice you will clip off your wings and feed us your children and in return you will have safety and order.' How can the ground be safer than the air, and how can such beauty and potential let itself be coerced into such a state? Well it is simple, butterflies are fragile and easily caught. They need only be rubbed the wrong way for the scales of their wings to fall off, and then they lose the ability to fly altogether. The reputation of roaches is much more consistent, much less complex, and far more corrupt. They are not swayed by the wind or the night or the filth of the world, and the world is their sewage drain…."

His voice trailed off then, as if V was coming out of some strange trance.

"…Yet another aspect of this government that I wish to change, " he finished, looking back up to her, the white mask almost apologetic in it's appearance.

Evey just stared at him, barely able to comprehend his words in such a state. "I still think that you're mad, you know."

"Perhaps, I fear I shall carry that label until at least after the fifth, then I think that my sanity may finally have a solid chance at being restored. The puzzle will be solved."

"What do you plan to do after then anyways. I mean, if all of this works out"

He sat silent for a moment, as if hesitant to answer such a question, "I have no plans"

She looked at him, confused. "You seemed to know what you're doing. Obviously you have a plan, you didn't include yourself?"

"What I do is dangerous Evey. It is not wise for me to think very far beyond the present."

"Well, is there anything that you might want to do. Anywhere you want to go?"

"Not particularly"

"You're kidding" she said, almost laughing "a man like you could do anything. I mean, don't you want to move on? Get a new home?" She paused, cautious in stating her next question "…maybe even get married?"

Those last few words struck V hard, and Evey did not see him as he winced behind the mask.

Marriage? Lord. Before marriage there had to be love, and he was hardly loveable. Though, he had--to his great surprise-- retained his ability to carry such an emotion over the years of solitude that constructed his existence. If only she knew to whom his heart was already succumbing too...

"No," he said deeply, a faint twinge of hidden emotion seasoning his voice.

"Not any of those things?"

"Rest, Evey," he finally answered, his mask turning to gaze at the floor, "I want to rest, and I'll leave it at that."

"Alright then." she yawned, halfheartedly smiling at her next statement "I'll weasel it out of you some other day."

V gave a nervous laugh. Indeed she would. He would tell her…eventually, or at least she would find out.

There was another awkward pause, before Evey spoke.

"I think going to wash up now." she put her hand on the top of the counter above her, and began an attempt to lift herself up. V stood immediately, and lifted her to her feet before she could even begin to strain the first muscle.

"God you're fast," she said, putting a hand to her forehead as her blood pressure stabilized from the sudden change in position.

V gazed at her, a certain warmth forming within his concealed eyes.

"Would you like a story" he said, cocking his head to the side in query "when you get out?"

"Err," she gave him a strange look. A book? Was that not a bit childish? "Sure."

V nodded, "I shall come to your room when you return." he turned, making his way out of the room, and just as he began to close behind himself he heard her speak.

"V?"

"Yes, Evey" the door was barely open now, only his hand a part of his mask visible behind the crack.

"Thank you, for taking care of me. I really do appreciate it."

"You're welcome," he said softly before closing the door fully.

V heard the rush of the shower as she flipped the water on, as he walked back down the hallway, heading in the direction of his library.

When he arrived in the room he went straight to a nearby shelf, knowing exactly which book he had in mind for the young lady. He plucked a book out of it's designated resting spot and held it up to the light, brushing a bit of imaginary dust off of it's cover and gazing at it fondly. It was a book called _The Magic Faraway Tree _by Enid Blyton_._

Beneath the mask, V smiled.


End file.
